Today I’ve decided to reflect on whats happened to me over the past 7 years. Growing up, I never thought, that SO much would change in this amount of time. I’ve met so many people, lost so many friends, and made tons of enemies. My parents have passed away. I’ve moved away from where I spent 22 years of my life. I’ve found love, lost love, and then rediscovered what it means to feel ANYTHING for anyone, and I’m all hers for eternity.
I’m sometimes told I’ve lived a lifetime. People always tell me they’re sorry for whats happened to me. Don’t misunderstand, I value these kind words. For some reason though, I just don’t get it. I never know what to say back other then “Its fine”. What else can I say? This is life right? People live then they die. In 2008 my mother died from an overdose of Anti-Depressants. I’m not ashamed to say this. My mother struggled with alcoholism for many years. She always told me she never wanted to get old. She didn’t want to be ugly. She didn’t want people to take care of her. She was strong, and taught me to be a man. Had 3 boys in natural child birth at home and raised us alone. She taught me to treat women with respect, and to love people for who they are. I haven’t always done a very good job at following this advice, but she truly lived by this. She was weak when it came to her habits, but still she was so strong. She said I was her greatest creation.
My Father died in May of this year. He fought heart disease for 9 years. He loved Superman, Classic Rock, and telling bad Jokes. He was a Power Lifter, Body Builder, business owner, process server, chef, and all around bad ass mother fucker. He struggled with his own addictions for many years. In 2001 he was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. He fought hard and lived well for 9 years (I remember him saying the doctors told him he’d maybe live 5 max). Thing took a turn for the worse around Feburary/March. He got food poisoning, severe dehydration, and it took a huge toll on this heart. He had gout in his feet, and a blood clot in his leg. He self treated himself, and died 2 months or so later. He taught me to be a man. To think before I take action. To fight for only the right reasons, and to be honest, and to love everything. He taught me how to see life for what it is, and to have the wisdom to pick my battles. He wanted me to whatever made me happy, and never once told me I was wrong. He taught me how to lift, how to run, and how to cry and not be ashamed. He told me I was his favorite person, and he delivered me in natural child birth, caught me with his own two hands, and to this day he holds me up when I fall.
I will never be remotely close to how wonderful my parents were. I hope they know how much I respect their memory and how bad I miss them. I love you both.